I hate that feeling but I love that feeling. The world goes to shit and it’s all that matters.
Right there and then in whatever means you can it is just a quick desperate, disparate feeling of escape. Feeling doesn’t even do it any kind of real justice, because your whole world falls into your laps. I see blackness, I see shades of red and black and pink and white, the whiteness of the heat I feel burning up from the middle of everything, but there is nothing, and that is what everything is. One single thing of hot wet union. Right now, ow, ow, ow , oooooh. And the flicks of tongues and suction of lips on dry skin puncture the air. Something hums in the distance but you don’t notice it until the world collapses again and light seeps back in.
In that moment you weren’t ugly. In that moment you weren’t a stranger. In that moment, we weren’t failures.